It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing
by redjoeyvines
Summary: Sherlock's death shattered John's whole world and three years later he's still trying to move on.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know if this is any good, but I really wanted to write a fic about Sherlock and John, so here's the first chapter. The title of the fic is a song by Shania Twain which I've been listening to and all I can see is John and Sherlock whilst listening to it.**

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><p><em>It'll be three years in exactly one week. Three years since I lost you. Three years since my whole world shattered. In one week it will have been three years since I saw you, three years since I heard your voice. Three years later and I can still see you. I can still smell you and feel you, but you're not here. You haven't been here for a long time now. I've moved on, living a different life. Of course it's not as fun as the life I had with you, but I'm happy. Well, I'm doing okay and I suppose that's all that matters. I have a new girlfriend, I say new, I've been with her over a year now. She's nice, you'd hate her.<em>

John hadn't written in this journal for nearly two years. The year following Sherlock's death he wrote in it every day, telling Sherlock what was new in his life. He had moved out of 221B Baker Street just a week after Sherlock's death, there were too many memories and he couldn't deal with the presence of Sherlock that still lingered in the flat, it was all too much for him. He moved in with Molly, but that was only temporary. He told Sherlock he missed him every day and he talked about how life was boring without him. Once he wrote a letter in the journal he wouldn't read it again, he couldn't look back. He'd already done that enough without reading what he wrote over and over again.

When a year had passed, John decided he needed to move on, he needed to find a new life. Got a job, find some new friends. When that first year had passed he'd eventually moved out of Molly's and found a new flat that was on the other side of the city to his old one, he needed to get as far away from the memories and his old life as he possibly could. When he decorated it he made sure it looked the complete opposite to the one he shared with Sherlock. Nothing could remind him of Sherlock, because it was too painful. He also stopped talking to Mycroft and Mrs Hudson, because he said he couldn't have people in his life who would constantly remind him of the man he lost. It proved very difficult moving on to start with, trying to start a new life wasn't exactly easy, especially when all he wanted was his old life back. He eventually found a job, working with newspapers, he wrote the advice column and it was pretty popular with its audience.

His life was going well and he was starting to smile a little bit more as time went on and life seemed to get easier. John started dating again, but he was never really good at that to begin with. Before it was because of Sherlock and now it was just because he was scared of getting hurt again, he couldn't go through all the pain and sadness he did with losing Sherlock, but he knew he had to make the most of his life.

Jess eventually came into his life and they got on from the get go. She's was nice and she was beautiful. She was just a bit smaller than John, she was pale, had bright green eyes and long, red, wavy hair. He didn't know why he found it so easy to get on with Jess, maybe it was because she was different from any other woman he'd ever dated. She wasn't possessive, she let John have his own space and he let Jess have hers. They rarely argued and life was easy, he was happy. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her, although that didn't change the fact there was no one else alive he'd rather spend his time with. They were friends as well as lovers and that just made the relationship that tiny bit better.

They moved in together after being together for six months. John realised it was starting to get serious and that made him smile a little, made him feel like he was finally living a normal life and even though he found a normal life boring, it was simple and easy and nothing like the life he had with Sherlock. His and Jess' relationship will be passing it's on year marker in 21 days. It has been a good year and he has smiled a lot, even felt genuinely happy for the most part of it and he had Jess to thank for that.

He read over his words again, smirking slightly at the end; _she's nice, you'd hate her. _It was true, Sherlock would hate her. He hated every woman John had ever dated. He had gone two years without writing in his journal, but since it was getting close to being three years all his feelings and emotions came flooding back. It took everything him in not to write in it around this time last year, but now he felt like he needed to, because he had come so far in the past year and he knew Sherlock would be happy for him, even though he would find John's new life extremely dull.

He couldn't write anymore, it was starting to hurt too much. What more could he possibly write? Sherlock would never see it anyway, he'd never see John again or the life he now lives. His eyes were stinging from the tears that threated to fall, but he stopped himself from getting even more emotional over Sherlock Holmes. He stood up, shoving the journal into the bottom drawer of his desk and making his way to the kitchen, sighing heavily as he poured himself a glass of water. He took a large gulp, before letting out a shaky breath. He was glad Jess wasn't home to see him like this, he hated being vulnerable in front of people, even if it was the woman he loved.

John had four days to himself, because Jess had gone to Paris earlier that day to visit her brother. Being alone was the hardest, but he'd decided to get some work done and focus his attention away from the upcoming anniversary which will be another one of his toughest days he'd have to face, where everything seemed broken and impossible. He wouldn't let himself get down and depressed again. Seeing a therapist for the first 8 months of Sherlock's death proved ineffective, he still couldn't talk to people. He barely talked to his therapist, but the anti-depressants worked and he started to overcome his depression, but he was always scared he'd slip back into it.

As the day got darker and his eyes got heavier he decided to crawl into bed before putting a film on, so the noise drowned out his thought, making it easier for him to sleep alone. His thoughts were always around, they were never quiet, never gave John any peace or quiet and the nights were the worst. His thoughts where even louder on a night and nothing he did ever made them go away. Drowning out the noise was the best he could do, the only thing he could do. He eventually fell asleep, hoping he'd have a decent night's sleep before he had to get up and face the world again.

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome! Let me know if you want me to carry on with this story.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't even know if people liked this fic, but I was starting to have all the Johnlock feels again so wrote the second chapter. Hope you like it.**

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><p>Tuesday morning came around pretty quickly. The four days John spent without Jess in the flat were quiet, really quiet. Nothing, but his thoughts and memories to fill the silence. John never really liked being on his own, he wasn't good at being alone, he knew he'd always need someone which is why he used to date so many women. Never realising that the only person he actually did need was Sherlock Holmes. The one man he could never have.<p>

John woke up Saturday morning having had an alright night's sleep, he only woke up twice thought out the whole night, which was some kind of record for him. He poured himself a cup of coffee, drinking it slowly and taking in the taste. He skipped breakfast, he didn't eat as much as he used to, he always felt sick if he ate too much. So lately he'd only really been having one meal a day, maybe two if his stomach felt up to it. The only thing he wanted to do was have a nice, hot shower and just feel relaxed, even if it was for only part of his morning.

The shower was a place where he didn't think as much, which was unusual as it was normally the place everyone else went to think or cry, but not John. This was his only place to feel okay again. He stripped his clothes off and jumped into the shower, letting the warm droplets of water take over his mind and body. If he could stay in his shower forever, that's exactly what he'd do. He probably stayed in the shower for about forty-five minutes before he decided he's better get out and do something productive. So for the rest of the day he did more work, answering more questions and getting more advice to people who wrote in. Saturday night was spend on the couch, drinking beer and watching TV programmes he didn't actually like.

Sunday he decided to get out of the house, so he went for a jog so he could get some fresh hair and stop living like a hermit who didn't have a life. Although outside of woke and Jess, he didn't actually have that much of a live. It was weird, going from being in the Army, to doing about a hundred random things a day with Sherlock, always full of excitement and mystery and then to an ordinary, everyday life that was just too normal for him.

After his job, he got in the shower again, only spending about half an hour in it this time, before making himself a chicken salad, which he didn't finish. He wanted to do something, go out and have fun, but what was there to do? He had no-one to go see, no-one to do anything with and his mind was straight back to Sherlock. There was always something to do with Sherlock. He kicked himself mentally for thinking about him so much these past few days after nearly a year of hardly thinking about him. How was he going to survive the anniversary of his death?

When Monday came around he really didn't want to do anything other than lay in bed all day. God, he was getting even more pathetic as he got older, but instead of being lazy and pathetic, he cleaned the flat from top to bottom, making it shine and smile nice. He wanted the flat to look nice for Jess when she came home. He really couldn't wait for tomorrow, to finally have conversation back in his life.

John woke up Tuesday morning around nine o'clock. He made himself coffee, a sandwich, which he only ate half of, got in the shower and the changed and made himself look presentable. Jess said she would be home for three, so he had six hours to kill before she got back.

Shopping was the first thing that came to mind. He needed to go food shopping since they needed bread and milk. He checked the freezer, the fridge and all the cupboards and made a list of the things they needed before he grabbed his coat and made his way to the local supermarket. The only bad thing about shopping was the fact it was in public and he would probably bump into at least one person he knew.

Walking around the supermarket he noticed happy couples and young children looking ridiculously happy. Since when did the world become so happy when John's world was so unhappy? Well, besides Jess. Everything else pretty much sucked though. He'd never been a ridiculously happy person, but the way he felt now was just annoying.

Thankfully he didn't spot anyone he knew and didn't get stopped by anyone to have a catch up or anything. It wasn't like he had hundreds of friends who were queuing around the block to have a catch up, but people from school and college tend to want a chit chat whilst in a supermarket which he didn't quite understand. If you was out and about you were obviously busy, so why do people feel the need to stop you and try and have an hour long conversation about nothing? He just didn't understand the human race sometimes. Why not pick up the phone and call to see when they weren't busy? That's what more people should do.

He paid for all his shopping items before calling a cab to take him home. It was half eleven when he made it back home. He hadn't realised he'd spent so long in the supermarket, but he was walking rather slowly and taking his time with everything. The only thing left to do was put all the shopping away, which he did rather quickly, putting everything in its right place before throwing out the garbage and recycling.

John glanced at his watch to see it was now half past twelve. Less than two hours until Jess was home and he had nothing to do, nothing at all. So he jumped onto the couch, turned on the TV and shut his eyes, listening to the dialogue of a really bad programme as he mind wandered elsewhere.

Before he knew it he was being woken up. "John, baby. I'm home." The voice called from above him.

John shot up to see a smiling Jess stood above him. "Oh, hello." He said, rubbing his eyes before he yawned and stood up to meet Jess. He pulled her into a tight hug that he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon. Jess hugged him back, resting her hand in the crook of his neck and taking in his scent. "I've missed you, so much." He told, kissing the top of her head. "How was your trip?"

Jess pulled away smiling at John before they both sat on the couch. "It was nice. Next time you have to come. My brother really wants to meet you."

John hadn't met any of Jess' family, well, he'd met her parents, but only once. He didn't know why, he just really didn't feel like making friends with her family. The constant thought that getting to know more people, starting to care about them, would only end in heart break. If he ever lost Jess, that would be hard enough without losing the whole family, too.

"Maybe." He mumbled, not sounding convincing at all.

"John, you can't not meet them. They're my family." Jess pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"I know." He replied, but she didn't carry on the matter, not when she noticed his eyes. His eyes that told her nothing was okay. She knew him better than he knew himself and she had seen those eyes plenty of times, mainly because of the dead man that haunted him.

John had told Jess everything about his life and everything about his life with Sherlock. He'd never opened up to anyone as much, but he suddenly shut himself off again when he saw the pity in her eyes. He didn't want pity, he didn't people to feel sorry for him. He just wanted her to understand.

"How are you?" She asked, intertwining their fingers together and smiling softly at him.

John sighed, "I'm okay." He told and he wasn't lying. He was okay, he just wasn't brilliant. He felt better now she was back, anyway.

"Do you, um, on his anniversary, do you want me to come to the grave yard with you, or not?" She asked, trying not to annoy him or press any buttons that would maybe upset him. She just wanted to be there for him. She knew how much Sherlock meant to him.

John smiled slightly and kissed him on the corner of the mouth. She really was an amazing girlfriend, he couldn't understand how he'd gotten so lucky. "No, it's okay. I think I'll just go alone." He said and she nodded, understanding how hard it still was for him. "Thank you, though." He added before kissing her again.

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><p>The anniversary of Sherlock's death came around for too quickly for John. He woke up Friday morning and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep and pretend this day didn't exist. Pretend this wasn't the same day three years ago that he lost his best friend. Today was going to be one of the worst days of his life and there was not a thing he could do about it.<p>

He sat up in bed and listened to the birds singing outside his window, they were far too cheery for him, especially on such an unhappy day. A small light shone through the gap in the curtains of his bedroom. Jess was still fast asleep next to him and he didn't want to wake her, he didn't want to be fussed around and he didn't want pity from her. He just wanted to get this over and done with and try and get on with his life until it came creeping back up on him in another year's time.

John got up out of bed after kissing Jess on the forehead, making his way into the bathroom where he got a quick shower and brushed his teeth before heading back into the bedroom and getting changed. He slipped on some light blue jeans, a black top and a light grey jacket along with some black pumps. He'd go to Sherlock's grave now before anyone else would go. He didn't want to bump into Molly, or Mrs Hudson or Mycroft, it would just make the day even harder. So he left Jess a note explaining he had already gone and that he'd be back later. Probably with red puffy eyes from all the crying he knows he's going to be doing.

Before he made his way to the grave yard he stopped off at the shop to get some flowers. Why? He had no idea, he didn't like flowers and he knew Sherlock didn't like flowers either, so it was pretty pointless, but he didn't want to turn up empty handed. The walk to the grave yard would take him about three quarters of an hour, but he didn't want to get a cab and have to make idle chit chat with the cab driver. The less he spoke to people the less they noticed his whole world shattered three years ago today and to be honest he didn't his voice would make it through a conversation without it breaking and him falling into uncontrollable sobs.

John eventually arrived at the grave yard, the same grave yard he used to visit a hell of a lot, but this was his first time in a year. It brought back all the memories of how he used to come and sit next to Sherlock's grave, telling him about his day. He stopped when he realised Sherlock couldn't hear him and when he realised coming here almost every day was making him even more depressed than he already was.

He sighed heavily before walking into the grave yard and straight to Sherlock's grave. He still remembered exactly where bout's it was and that was probably because most of his nightmares that haunted his dreams were based in the very spot. He shivered at the thought before dropping down onto his knees next to Sherlock's grave. The grave stone was silver and white with 'Sherlock Holmes' printed on it in big, block, black capitals.

Now he was here he had no idea what he wanted to say or what he wanted to do or what he'd achieved by coming back to the place where his best friend's body lays six feet under him. He placed the flowers next to the grave and let out a low laugh. "Don't ask me why I got you these." He said, shaking his head. "I just thought that's what people are supposed to do." He voice was starting to break and he hadn't even said anything emotional yet.

"Tell me, Sherlock. What was going through your mind when you jumped?" He let out a shaky breath. He'd asked the question far too many times. The question that could never be answered, because the only man who could answer wasn't around to hear it.

"I still have nightmares, you know? About that day." Tears were threatening to fall, but John held them back a little longer while he spoke. "It's been three years. Three god damn years. I don't know what I'm doing." He admitted, placing on hand on the top of the grave before dropping his head. "People say it gets easier with time. How wrong were they?" He scoffed at this. People were wrong, they were always wrong. What did they know?

"I miss you." He hesitated before speaking again. "I miss you, so much." And with that a loud sob escaped his throat and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Why did you leave?" He whispered through loud sobs.

John knew this was going to be hard, he just didn't realise it'd be this hard. That he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying this much. His eyes stung from all the tears and he wondered how he still had tears to cry. He wiped away the falling tears to only have them replaced by more. What else could he say? There was nothing more he could bring himself to say to a stone. He was wasting his breath and he knew he was, so he said in silence for a few minutes, trying to control his breathing.

After about ten minutes of silence he cleared his throat and stood up, still facing the white and silver grave stone that has his best friends name plastered on it. "Sherlock Holmes, the one man I can never have." He said quietly, shutting his eyes and sighing loudly. "You will never know how much I miss you." He added before he stood abrupt.

There was a sudden noise behind him, the sound of footsteps and then a small branch cracking. He couldn't turn around to show whoever was behind him how vulnerable he actually is. The person behind him cleared his throat, a sound that was all too familiar, but it couldn't be, could it? His mind was obviously playing tricks on him. There was probably nobody behind him at all, he was probably just hearing things. But he couldn't turn around and when it fell silent again and he couldn't feel a presence behind him, he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in and relaxed a little more.

"I miss you, so much, Sherlock Holmes." He said again, before a tear fell from his eye and he wiped it away quickly. He wasn't going to cry, not again.

He sighed heavily, eyeing the grave one more time before turning around. He froze, he physically couldn't do anything, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe and he certainly couldn't speak. There was nothing he could do but stare at the tell man the stood in front of him in, looking tired and rough. He looked scruffy in his big long blue coat. He had bags under his eyes that indicated that he hadn't slept in possibly weeks.

Their eyes met and nobody broke the stare, but nobody said anything either. What was there to say? Well, John had a lot he wanted to say to the man standing in front of him, but he couldn't find the words.

"I miss you, too." Sherlock broke the silence, the silence that was getting too much for either of them to handle. His voice was quiet, nothing like the way he used to talk. It was more human, more normal, more sincere than it had ever been.

John sighed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly for a second before opening them and moving closer to Sherlock Holmes, the man who was supposed to be dead. He was getting really close to Sherlock now, like he was going to close the gap and kiss him. Kiss him so hard, like he'd wanted to do for the past three years, like he didn't know he wanted to do when he was alive. Well, he'd always been alive hadn't he? The last three years of John's life had been spent thinking his best friend was dead and here he was stood in front of him, telling him he missed him.

Instead of kissing him, instead of pulling him into a hug or telling him everything would be okay, he clenched his fist and it suddenly connected with Sherlock's face who cried out in pain clutching his hand while John stared at him with a heavy breath and then walked away. Walked away from the man he loved, the man he'd always loved, the man who was now suddenly back in his life.

And Sherlock let him. He let him just walk away without even trying to stop him, without even calling his name, not even once. He just watched John walk away from him without a word.

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><p><strong>I haven't checked through it, so I apologise for any mistakes, but I have to go to work, like now, so I haven't got time to check through it. I just really wanted to get it up!<strong>


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